


love letter to davenep

by ennico



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Other, first fic here so 👍, for all my rarepair friends out there, nepeta is n.b. and dave is transmasc btw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:21:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28593894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ennico/pseuds/ennico
Summary: davenep means so much to me and this was . Really Really self indulgent . thanks 4 readingalso dave is in love with nep he’s just very bad at expressing his love in I Love You form
Relationships: Nepeta Leijon/Dave Strider
Comments: 7
Kudos: 7





	love letter to davenep

there is something about the way he moves his hands back and forth like he’s using his turntables that first draws you in. you remember your first meeting very well. the first time you saw him, you had immediately tackled him to the ground and rubbed your cheek along his face, his cape, his hair. there was something so exciting about meeting one of the few people who roleplayed with you. that first meeting, akwete purrmusk jumped and tumbled and rolled with you, and though he said it was all ironic of course, there was something so genuine about the little smile he gave you that changed everything. 

when he’s in the kitchen pestering eridan and talking about all sorts of things he finds interesting, you cant tear your eyes off him. he’s beautiful, the way he is. you’d always known you were a romantic at heart, but you cannot help but feel almost scandalized at the way your bloodpusher thumps painfully when he waves at you when you pass by. perhaps you’d be disheartened by your newest flushcrush if you couldn’t hear the way his own bloodpusher sped up, couldn’t smell his scent changing when you were with him, couldn’t notice the way he fought to keep that neutral expression on his face. to the others, maybe he’d seem collected when talking to you as he was with them. as an apex purredator, which you very much pride yourself in being, you know better. being keen to even the subtlest of changes in expression is your expertise. thankfully he isnt a predatory alien, so he doesn’t know that you know. once upon a time, you thought that this was what you felt for karkat, but this feels wildly different. karkat is neither here nor now. dave occupies every waking moment, haunting your every dream like a ghost. and maybe he is a ghost, in your dreams. bordering on the edge of flirtatious and dangerous, when you chase him, bearing fang and claw fiercely until youre both breathless and laughing on the floor, leaning close close close closer- . and you wake up. 

equius would be so disappointed to see your tail all frizzed up and messy like that, so you brush it down for his sake. it takes a couple minutes for the burning flush on your cheeks to die down, so you lick your paws in the meantime and swipe your hair down a little just for “propriety’s” sake. darn equius in your head, you hum fondly. 

you bump shoulders when passing each other, on different routes. both of you pause, taking a moment to regard each other and the moment feels so tense, so close to boiling over, when you feel the weight of the paint set you carry in your paws. right, there was something this was for. something urgent. tapping a claw onto its surface and biting your tongue to keep from asking if he gets the dreams too, you don’t notice the wistful look he gives you beneath his shades when you’ve parted ways. there is work to do, and your newfound love will have to wait a little longer. 

paint all over the walls. paint with your fingerpads and drag fine lines with the tips of your claws, your greatest work of art blossoms from your love for a boy who raps about feet and apple juice and breadsticks ironically. occasionally, you pause to make sure you get every gentle swoop and curve of his hair correct, every freckle, every scar accounted for. the room isnt large, but its a big enough wall to serve as a canvas, as a monument to your love. diamonds, spades, hearts, clubs. they surround him because you cant quite put your claw on what it is you want from him. in this quiet room, you reminisce. some days when you talk to him and he has that sarcastic edge in his voice, you want to push him against a wall and claw at all his weak points, kiss him until he’s gasping for air and only you can provide. some nights, when you’re in his room and listening to him compose a new beat, spitting out lyrical masterpieces dedicated to obama, you want to kiss him gently and whisper your affections to him. to wholly complete him, like he’s completed you. seeing him talk passionately about his rap and swords brings out something warm in you. some days, when he avoids the entire meteor crew and youre the only one determined enough to hunt him down, find him looking despondent in an isolated room, you feel so achingly pale for him. he’s told you, in that silly little alien accent of his, how he doesnt let his guard down around anyone. just you sometimes, on these days where he panics with the need to run from the man with the gloves who isn't here. on these days where you wrap your arms around him, feel him stiffen before hugging you back tentatively, burying his face in the shoulder of your coat as you purr soothingly, you feel so wonderfully pale, so needed by him, and your bloodpusher shatters with pain for him. on these rare days, where he cries on your shoulder after bottling it up for so long, you swear you would lay down your very life to protect this boy. 

your shipping chart needs updating, and you smile fondly at the crudely drawn mural of yourself and karkat before cleaning it up for good. theres a twinge in your bloodpusher, some small, rebellious part of you that doesn’t want to let go of your first love. you’d pined for so long, and for what ? pushing the thought away, you conclude that theres not much more left other than friendly affection for karkat anymore. you’d much rather be happy as his friend anyways, since he wasn’t your type anymore. the remains of the soot and ash you’d cleaned up was a testament to that. 

the only <3 drawing you have left of yourself and karkat is on the everyone shipping wall. it’s small, just like the other drawings, and you’d cleaned up the otp writing. it was still there, to remind yourself of when you were smaller and more prone to loving angry trolls with nubby horns and soft sides. karkat’s other <3 scribbles had also been updated. your new otp was up on the wall, brighter with fresh paint and less clumsily drawn. you weren’t heavy handed as you used to be, and the style change was quite a contrast to most of the other ships. 

sometimes when your paths cross on the meteor, he pulls out his sword on you and you flash your fangs at him. its all in good fun and practice, of course. you could never hurt him pitch during these playfights. maybe one day in a black romp, but not now. these scraps are lighthearted and help keep you on your toes, dodging his swings and aiming for his throat. sometimes he wins, stopping his sword right before it slashes your coat and skin open. mostly you win, retracting your claws and simply putting your paw pads on the soft skin of his neck. absentmindedly, you swipe your thumb over his pulse point and your ears prick up and your tail lashes when you feel his blood flutter beneath your finger. he backs up, sword gone and you swear you can see traces of a wonderfully red blush on his cheeks before he crosses his arms behind his head and plays it off like he let you win. both of you know that youre the superior hunter here, but you’ll let him dream. before leaving, you rub your cheek on his collarbone in a friendly gesture. and because it helps you listen to his bloodpusher better, if just for a second. when youre gone, you dont see him sliding to the ground and clutching his shirt over his chest like a lifeline. 

that night, when youre returning to your mural to put the finishing touches on it with paint in paw, the door is ajar. for a second, your bloodpusher hammers in fear, mind racing with the possibility that gamzee was back and wanted to finish you off- but no. you catch the scent of cheap cologne and apple juice, and you know who it is. your green blood is still thundering through your veins, because oh gog he’s in the mural room. rushing in, the paint clatters to your feet when you see him sizing up the mural. you’re absolutely MORTIFIED. he’s going to hate it, hes going to hate YOU and leave because you couldnt just not fall irrevocably in love with him and you never should’ve put it up here of all places and-

“hey nep. this is a real purdy drawing you got here. wish i had somethin’ to give you in return for this da vinci piece.”

this is the first time youve seen him without his shades. his eyes are such a vibrant red, and his eyelashes are so pretty and long, you almost want to bat at them. he’s smiling, and that eases all your worries instantly. 

“dave ?”

“yeah?”

“i think i love mew, every quadrant.”

“i figured. have i ever told you i have a thing for catgirls ?”

**Author's Note:**

> davenep means so much to me and this was . Really Really self indulgent . thanks 4 reading
> 
> also dave is in love with nep he’s just very bad at expressing his love in I Love You form


End file.
